


Fade to Black

by calathea



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calathea/pseuds/calathea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt Hot Fuzz, Danny/Nicholas, "I didn't think a plant could actually eat a man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade to Black

Danny had often thought that the most disappointing thing about Real Life, as opposed to films, was that very rarely did you get any warning that everything was about to go pearshaped. In the flicks, there were always all these _omens_ , right, and if nothing else the dramatic soundtrack would be a dead give-away. Personally, if Danny ever heard lots of high pitched violins squeaking in the background of _his_ life, he'd go straight home, lock all the doors and hide under his duvet until it stopped. He'd definitely not go wandering around in some dark and lonely car park like a plonker.

Unfortunately, since Sandford was part of Real Life and not the movies, he got no real warning at all that his day would end up heading rapidly towards doom and destruction of property with a really big flame-thrower. In fact, all the warning he got was the phone ringing on and on in the background at the station while everyone was busy arguing over the god-awful pong in the break room. 

(To be fair, if he'd known about the flame-thrower, he'd probably have picked the phone up sooner, no matter how much doom came with it, because, well, _a flame-thrower_. Wicked!)

* * * 

"Well, it weren't me!" Cartwright protested. "I haven't so much as looked at a baked bean in weeks. It must have been Saxon. Maybe he rolled in something."

"Yeah! He hasn't smelled bad in ages!" Wainwright confirmed, nodding seriously.

"znotsaxon," said Walker, frowning and folding his arms over his chest. Saxon sat down at his feet and whined.

The phone started ringing.

"It definitely isn't me!" Doris said, when everyone turned to look at her. "I smell vivacious and flirtatiously of Cassis Rose, like rolling around in a bed strewn with rose petals."

"Spends a lot of time in flower beds, our Doris," murmured Wainwright. Cartwright sniggered.

"Well, it's not me," said Fisher, appearing with a tray full of mugs. He started to hand them out.

Everyone turned to look accusingly at Danny, who almost dropped his mug. "I never!" he exclaimed. "Tell them, Angel!"

Nicholas, who had just walked into the room, frowned at everyone, and absently accepted a cup of tea. "Tell them what, Sergeant Butterman? Why is that phone still ringing? I thought I issued the memo about the three rings policy. And... good _god_ , what is that _smell_?"

Everyone burst into speech at once, except Turner, who went to answer the phone. So actually, when it all started, there _might_ have been dramatic omen music except that no-one would probably have been able to hear it over everyone in the police station arguing over whether the Smell was more like dead fish or more like a really big fart. Turner just took the message and passed it on to Danny, who almost used it to stir his tea, so distracted was he by Doris' invitation to Angel to smell her and see for himself about the vivacious rose petals.

"Right well," said Danny, seeing Angel go a funny pale colour. He scanned the note hastily "Angel, we should be off to see, uh, Mrs McGuffin about her, um, plants."

"What?" said Angel, "Oh, yes, right."

He stepped hastily back from Doris, who'd advanced on him with a gleam in her eye. "You lot try to, uh, detect the source of the odour, will you?" he said, snatching his cap from Danny's desk. "Danny, let's roll."

He rushed from the room. Danny set down his cup of tea with a sigh and reached for his own helmet.

"Shame on you, Doris, frightening Angel like that," Cartwright said, nudging Wainwright with his elbow. "You know he ain't one for sniffing the ladies."

"Likes a _manlier_ smell, don't he," smirked Wainwright. "Eau de Sarge."

Danny ignored this by-play. "I'd've smelled you," he told Doris, who was looking crestfallen.

"Would you, Danny?" she said, brightening. "Aww. You're a good lad."

Danny nodded. Outside, Angel hooted the horn of his car. "Maybe there's a dead rat under the floorboards," Danny offered, as he headed out the door. "Happened to my Nan once. Well, she said it was a rat, but I reckon it was her lodger. Dad didn't like him much."

Everyone was looking thoughtfully at the floor as he left.

* * * 

Out in the car, Angel was staring straight ahead with what Danny was pretty sure was meant to be a steely expression. Angel's steely expressions never really worked on him anymore, Danny had noticed. Mostly it just made him think of that time when he went round to fetch Angel in the middle of the night for a case of missing sheep. Angel had tried to be especially intimidating and serious, but he'd been wearing boxer shorts with smiley faces on them, and had been all ruffled and sleepy-looking so it hadn't really worked.

Actually, Danny wished Angel didn't do the steely thing at work. It was distracting.

"McGuffin Farm," Danny said now, opening the glove box and rummaging about for the KitKat he'd left there. "It's out past the pond, near the turnoff for the King's Head."

Angel nodded curtly, and put his foot to the floor.

"I think they're going to look for a rat under the floorboards," Danny told him, nibbling at his Kitkat thoughtfully as they raced through the countryside. "My Nan had a rat under hers. Or her lodger. I don't know which."

Angel shot him a look. It was a very specific type of look. A your-dad-is-a-nutter-and-I'm-not-sorry-he's-in-prison-but-I-am-sad-for-you sort of look. Angel was good at looks like that. Danny was pretty sure his own eyebrows weren't that good at expressing complicated emotions. His mostly seemed to vary between confused and gormless, if the Andys were to be believed.

"What is the problem at the McGuffin farm?" Angel asked, taking a corner quickly, after the silence had stretched out. 

"He keeps plants, Mr McGuffin. Grows them, like, mutant ones, you know?" Danny said, through a mouthful of chocolate and wafer. 

"Hybrids?" said Angel.

Danny nodded. "Them too," he said. "Message was something about someone going missing though."

They pulled up outside the farmhouse, and immediately the front door opened and woman came running out, holding a boot to her considerable bosom and crying fit to burst a blood vessel.

Angel and Danny exchanged a startled glance, and climbed out of the car. "Mrs McGuffin?" Angel asked, with his most sincere and sympathetic face. Danny wished all over again that his eyebrows did that. 

"He's goooooone," Mrs McGuffin wailed, and hugged the boot fiercely. "He's gone and this is all that's left."

A young man came running out. "It's got Samuel!" he cried, as he ran over, and Mrs McGuffin let out another shriek. 

"What has?" Angel said urgently.

"It!" said the man. "Come, quick! It's got him and it's dragging him away!"

Danny and Angel sprang into action, following the man as he ran towards the side of the barn, Mrs McGuffin calling after them to come back. 

And _that_ , that was where Danny should have been listening for the _really_ dramatic music, but he was far too busy, and then there was all the screaming and the part where he had to rescue Angel by hanging on tight while they were dragged over the hard ground and all the yelling for him to hold on, and finally the great _whoosh_ and crackle of the flame-thrower. So one way or another, he just didn't have enough _ears_ to listen for theme music. 

* * * 

When they finally made it back to the police station, they were both much the worse for wear. Danny had lost his hat, and most of the skin off his left elbow, and he smelled of ash and petrol from where he'd firebombed the McGuffin's experimental field. Angel had come out of it even more badly. His neatly pressed shirt was in tatters, his face was grimy and part of his left eyebrow had been singed off, which was going to ruin at least twelve of his favourite expressions. His trousers had suffered worse, though, with a big chunk bitten out of the seat, revealing that his boxers today were a staid black pinstripe. Danny missed the smiley faces. 

"I didn't think a plant could actually eat a man," Angel was saying, sounding dazed, as Danny pulled up carefully in front of the police station. Angel didn't let him drive the car very often, but Danny supposed being partially digested by a giant plant would make anyone reluctant to remember his mirror-signal-manoeuvre training. 

Danny nodded. "Triffids," he offered. "Howard Keel. Ending's a bit rubbish though."

Angel blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "I'll show you the film tonight," Danny promised. "They look a lot like giant asparaguses."

He climbed out of the car, and assisted Angel out of the other side and into the station. He'd have taken Angel straight home if he'd thought he could get away with it, but Angel was a stickler for the paperwork, even when he was all chewed down his left hand side.

When they opened the door, it was to a scene of chaos. Half the floor was up, and floorboards were stacked all over the place. The rest of the team were sitting around on the other half of the floor with cups of tea.

"What the hell happened here?" said Angel, his voice rising alarmingly on the last word. 

"What the hell happened to you?" said Wainwright, his jaw dropping at the sight of the half-masticated Angel. 

"There was a problem with some plants," said Danny. "Did you find whatever was causing the smell?"

Turner raised his hand sheepishly. "It was my brother's gorgonzola sandwich," he said. "He was using it for a bookmark, but then he decided not to finish the book, and just left it. We found it just before we took the floor up."

Angel's mouth opened and closed. " _Before_ you took the floor up," he said, weakly. 

Everyone suddenly became very interested in gazing into their tea. Danny felt Angel draw himself up, as if he was about to start yelling, and stepped in hastily. "Well, I expect they're about to fix it," he said, meaningfully, then turned to Angel. "Why don't I get you home? I'm sure you're allowed time off if you get half-eaten."

Angel was about to protest, Danny could tell, but subsided when Danny hustled him out the door. "Maybe we should give _them_ some rose petals to roll around in," he heard Doris say slyly as the door banged shut behind them, then "Oi!" when a bin clattered into the wall by her head. "Scarring mental images!" Wainwright was shouting.

Danny shoved Angel out of the front door and hoped his ears were still ringing from being smacked around by the ten pound leaves of the McGuffin Triffid to have heard. When he checked Angel was murmuring distressfully over the holes in his trousers, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Home?" he said, hopefully. "Your house?"

Angel stopped poking at his shredded trousers long enough to shudder. "I can't face the peace lily. I think it might give me nightmares," he said, looking a little ashamed. "Could we... Would you mind if we went to yours?"

"Course not," Danny said, and a stupid grin spread across his face.

* * * 

Danny told Angel all about his theory about the warning music later, once they were drunk enough for Angel to have become Nicholas, ruffled and sleepy-looking in the pyjamas with sheep on them that Danny had found for him to wear instead of his ripped and stained uniform. They were half watching Gone in Sixty Seconds, which Angel disapproved of for glorifying car theft, even though Danny promised him they gave all the cars back in the end. It had been a struggle for Danny to find any other film that completely failed to show any vegetation whatsoever, not even a vegetable on a plate, though, so he was tolerating it.

"It'd be good," Danny was arguing now, while Nicolas Cage fawned over a car on screen. "You'd just listen in, and then as soon as the music got a bit _suspenseful_ , you could just, you know, go get a cup of tea, sit down and read the paper."

Nicholas nodded. "Or call for backup," he suggested.

"And you'd know whenever someone you were supposed to fancy turned up," Danny mused, "Because the syrupy music would start up. And they'd know too, so there wouldn't be any of the bit where you wonder whether they think you're a prat, because they could just run away the second it started to play."

Nicholas blinked at him, looking surprised. Although that might just have been the missing eyebrow. "No-one thinks you're a prat, Danny," he protested.

Danny looked at him skeptically. "You told me I was a prat four times on Tuesday," he said. "And again today, right before I almost accidentally skewered you with that pitchfork."

Nicholas mumbled something, and went a little pink. Danny folded his arms and stared at the screen. Someone was stealing a Mercedes, and the music had gone all urgent and downbeat.

Suddenly, Nicholas stood up. "I'm not running away," he announced, which was probably just as well since he was a bit unsteady on his feet, and also, wearing sheep pyjamas.

"Um, okay," said Danny, confused.

"I'm not running away," Nicholas said again, and he was wearing a mostly serious expression. "And right now the music that should be playing is the soundtrack to the hero grabbing his best friend and the screen fading to black for the naughty bits."

He crossed his arms. 

Danny stared right back. "I didn't know you watched films with naughty bits," he said, "I didn't know you watched films at all, before me. You've been holding out on me."

Nicholas stared at him. "Danny!" he said, and for a second Danny thought he _was_ going to leave, sheepy pyjamas and all.

"What?" said Danny, then: "Oh! Wait! Am I the hero in this?"

"You were the one who dragged me out of the claws... leaves... whatevers of that plant," Nicholas pointed out. "All I did was almost get eaten."

"I'm the hero!" Danny exclaimed, happily. "Wicked!" And then, when Nicholas was starting to look like he was thinking about taking that back, jumped to his feet hastily. "Um, naughty bits?" he said, stepping up close to Nicholas, only tripping up the tiniest bit on the way there.

Nicholas nodded. "Yes," he said, and his voice was just a little hoarse. "Please."

The music on the film swelled in the background. 

Danny thanked every deity he could think of that Real Life didn't fade to black, and reached out to Nicholas.

* * *


End file.
